Page 30 of Hot Receiver

The asshole.

He did say he wants me to suffer.

I move his hand away and try to grab it myself, but he blocks it from me. “No. That would feel too good, wouldn’t it?”

“You sadistic fuck,” I sputter against his hand, spit flying out of the corners of my mouth.

I arch my back and grind against his dick, urging him deeper. My body is full of him, my ass so greedy.

He moves easier after the first few minutes, my ass stretched wide as he bottoms out. I lean my head back against him and his hand moves back to my aching cock. He strokes it, but this time, it’s not like he hates me. It’s hard but more erotic than disgusted. I alternate between thrusting against his hand and his cock, and then holy mother of God…

His hand is still tight against my lips. I scream and thank fuck it’s muffled because I’m convinced everyonein the stadium would have heard it. He pegs my prostate, over and over. My body freezes in place because it feels so incredible, so amazing, and I’m afraid that if I move, it’ll end.

I don’t want it to end…

But it does. Lightning crashes and cum spurts from the tip of my cock, coating his hand, my chest, and my pants. His hips jerk, and he collapses against me, forcing me back against the wall as his own orgasm tears through him.

I deserved pain. I welcomed pain.

But this wasn’t torture. It was euphoria.

What I’ve missed for so long, what I can never find with anyone else, no matter how hard I tried.

That connection was always missing.

I finally found it again, but I can’t have it. It will never be mine.

Never ours.

It takes a few minutes for me to catch my breath after having my body ravaged so brutally and fantastically at the same time.

I love it rough and dirty. I crave the anguish that only he can make me feel.

A few deep breaths quake my lungs.

But I can’t have it. Ever.

I meant when I said it was the last time.

I’m so weak for this man. I know I can easily fall right into his net, never able to claw my way out.

The bigger problem is I wouldn’t want to.

“Did you get it all out?” I hiss, tucking my dick into my pants and straightening my shirt before buttoning everything back up.

So easy with clothes…

Not so much with goddamn emotions.

I square my shoulders, clench my fingers intotight fists, and turn to fire a glare at him, taken aback by the blank look on his flushed face. Like he’s in a deep sea of post-coital bliss and has no clue what I’m even saying.

All the more reason to keep going.

“You did what you wanted to do. You hate fucked me so you could heal and move on.”

His eyebrows furrow, but he doesn’t speak. He just stares at me, that familiar pained gaze back to haunt me.

At least I got a few minutes of peace while his cock plowed my ass.

---